Hall of Fame
by Huinari
Summary: [Story collection for the series] The First Young Blood: His story is not well-known, but he was the first hero – the one who started the chain of events that would allow the others to rise like they did. Wes, Rui, and how they saved the desert region of Orre from greedy shadows the first time.
1. Prologue

_the beginning_

Where – or more precisely, when – did this all start?

Did it start with the birth of the very first of the heroes who would make the choice to defy or join Corruption, when he took a breath on his own for the first time and let out a cry to announce his coming?

Did it start when the boy-turned-man-turned-warlord reached out to something greater than he was, finding the strength to meet the Creator by heart and witnessed the Prophecy be given, foretelling the coming of the promised ones that would start the New Era?

Did it start when King Azoth chained the gods to a weapon, harnessed their power and rewrote the rules of the world's natural energy? When he who bled Creation's _ichor_ inadvertently triggered so many different wars and encounters, planted the seeds of hate and love and peace and conflict, all in the name of his friend who was struck with horror at the massacre his actions brought?

Or was it simply something that would always come, a fateful encounter since the very beginning, when a thousand arms broke out of a single egg and began creating this world? When time began to flow and space began to expand with each heartbeat, each breath taken?

* * *

 _the laws of balance_

There is Order. There is Chaos. And then there is Corruption.

The first two are natural, and necessary. In Order there is Chaos, and in Chaos there is Order. To be perfectly Orderly is impossible, just as pure Chaos cannot exist. The two together create a necessary balance in this universe, allowing it to exist in its imperfect yet potential-filled being. Darkness and shadows are not necessarily evil or wrong, just as light is not always right. Light cannot exist without casting a shadow, and shadows are not distinguishable without light. There are consequences that come from every action, and that is the Law.

But Corruption is different. Where it goes, it destroys. It warps reality, perverts Order, defies Chaos and extinguishes everything until nothing but a mass of Corruption is left. It comes from twisting the laws of reality and nature, ignoring boundaries for the sake of greed without being willing to pay the consequences, creating something from nothing but empty voids. And paradoxically, from that choice comes a consequence of devastation in the end.

It is Pure Evil, and it only seeks to twist and control, destroy and devour until nothing is left as it should be. It is a void, empty and craving everything to fill its insatiable abyss.

Some wonder why the gods exist, if they are so tightly bound by rules and unable to release their full powers without the guidance of mortals. Some wonder if they truly have power.

But there are rules. The gods are but safeguards for this world to protect it from Corruption, and were created to combat its existence, to eradicate its grasping tendrils and protect the balance. They do not bring Corruption, cannot make the choice to let it come into existence. And because they cannot bring it, they cannot make the choice to deny it.

Mortals do. And it is because they have the potential to Corrupt that mortals are the ones who must choose to fight it, wielding the powers of the gods through prayers and wishes, through firm hearts and strong souls.

* * *

 _the hall of fame_

When the chosen warlord dared to stand against the conqueror with two dragon gods at his side, and called upon the Creator to cast His Judgement upon all to end the conflict causing turbulent times in the land, the Creator granted his heart's wish, and also showed him the future, where a group of founders to a new era would rise. Each noble carrying a gift within, they would make the choice, to either join Corruption and use their powers to conquer the world and subjugate it to their will – or fight it, and forge a new world, and usher in a new age.

The Progenitors.

The Miracle Bearers.

The Pioneers.

The Foundations of the Coming Times.

The Young Bloods.

The holders of such possibility that they could become anything they wanted, and shake the world. The protagonists that will not be forgotten. The heroes that would save everyone, regardless of whether their struggles would be known by others or not. The carriers of potential, stars and magic in their blood and bodies.

Would you like to know their stories?

* * *

Table of Contents

Chapter 01: Prologue/Table of Contents

 **[The First Young Blood – Wes]**

Chapter 02: Resolution

Chapter 03: Hesitation

Other Stories

 _Titanium (Ongoing)_

* * *

an: This is the anthology for my 'Hall of Fame' series, where all the shorter stories/miscellaneous tidbits will be collected. Updates will be sporadic.

Cover image credit goes to かねる (Pixiv ID 210476), and I have permission from the original artist to use it. It'll be changed when the Hoenn story begins.


	2. Resolution

Story: **_The First Young Blood – Wes_**

Summary: His story is not well-known, but he was the first hero – the one who started the chain of events that would allow the others to rise like they did. Wes, Rui, and how they saved the desert region of Orre from greedy shadows the first time. [Pokémon Colosseum]

Characters: Wes, Rui, Castor (Espeon), Pollux (Umbreon), Pokémon Colosseum Characters.

Uploaded: 2016-01-01

* * *

Part One – Resolution

"There is no chance, no destiny, no fate that can hinder the firm resolve of a determined soul."  
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

* * *

 _Date: 1999 AJ or A.S. 100, December 31st_

 _Location: Snagem Base, Eclo Canyon, Orre_

Wes didn't remember what his dad's face looked like.

He remembered having one, sometimes, in the vague parts of his very early memories. He thought he remembered a room with a drably painted wall – not gray, but something like a faded, dirty beige layered with grime from time – where he sat on the floor and looked up at the figure of a man whose face was blurry in his memories talking in a deep voice, speaking words about food to his mother. He was returning from work, and maybe he had a few words of love and kindness to his only child.

Maybe. Wes didn't remember that much about the man who had been his sire.

Wes remembered his mother's face a little more clearly. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and golden eyes, who could smile and light up the world. She had a mole, a mark on her nose, but it was small and made her look pretty, not like a witch or a hag. She wore a special, pretty necklace always around her neck, and when he snuggled into her, seeking a hug for comfort or love or warmth, he'd always feel it dig into his own neck. Sharp, hard, but not necessarily unwelcoming. In a way it was a part of her like her hair and eyes were. Familiar.

She was great at telling stories. She could fix up any injury – or so it felt – with a kiss and a bandage. She loved Water-types, loved to swim in the ocean.

Even her face was starting to fade from his memories, though. It had been over four years since she was murdered, and he didn't have a picture of her or anything. Just an earring, and his two Pokémon.

Wes finished up the last wires and started the timer, letting the red light of the changing numbers shine upon the first of the many explosives. There was one man in all of Snagem that he hadn't minded talking with, and that was the crazy engineer who taught a teenage boy about making things explode by tinkering with devices before he died of some disease. There wasn't much to work with during the years of war when it looked like Southeast Orre was taking on the entire world by itself, when supplies were scarce even to Snagem, but Wes had salvaged up enough materials now, and he knew the hideout well enough to place the explosives where they would do maximum damage and draw the most attention.

He had thirteen minutes. He hoped that the unlucky number wouldn't end up jinxing him.

* * *

The last hours to the year 1999 AJ were trickling away.

This was the fourth year Wes had been in Snagem, first as a young grunt and then fighting, clawing his way up the ranks, keeping wary eyes out behind in case someone tried to shank him out of the competition and trusting no one fully except his two Pokémon. This was the fourth year he had been in Orre after his mother died.

This was the fourth year since he saw his mother murdered by the same people that decided to take and use him.

Southeast Orre was done warring with the rest of the world. The former government has fallen after the Kurtz Family that had been creating a dynasty of its own in the desert region was all assassinated by special forces. Southeast and Northwest Orre had merged, and Orre was whole again for the first time since the Split.

That, of course, meant that Snagem was scrambling in an effort to put down deep roots before the dust settled down so it wouldn't be so easy, if at all possible, to remove. The only person he had felt some kind of a positive bond to – a crazy mechanic missing one leg who made him a bike and taught him how to rig up explosives – was dead, from some kind of lung or heart disease.

Snagem had recently acquired something new – something that could make its criminal activities a lot easier.

This was the chance Wes has been waiting for, and in the fourth year of his wait, it had finally come.

He didn't have much possessions. All his books, he had read dozens of times, and while they were enough to get him through the years without going insane amongst the idiots surrounding him, he couldn't take them with him. They were too heavy.

Money, only a small sum he had managed to save up over the years.

Pokémon – Castor and Pollux were coming with him, no question about it. They'd been with him since before this whole mess with Snagem, and they stuck with him throughout it all. They were just as, if not even more, excited about this than he was.

Clothes. His bike – a gift from the crazy old man. The mirrored goggles that were a blessing for his eyes in the fierce sunlight of Orre, as well as its ubiquitous sand.

And, of course, a single gold earring he wore in his left ear. Nothing fancy, just a thick ring that just didn't pinch his earlobe on the end.

He didn't really have much else.

Good. That made it easier to abandon everything and just leave.

Well, not _just_ leave.

The larger models of the Snag Machine would be destroyed – he'd seen to that. The smaller, portable model, made by the mechanic, was his worry. There weren't any plans or blueprints left behind, but this new model was far more efficient than the larger, clunky ones. Snag Balls, converted from regular Poké Balls, didn't 'last long'. The energy override in them that allowed for capturing already captured Pokémon faded in twenty four hours after being converted, making the larger, immobile Snag Machines difficult to use, and limiting their 'snagging' capabilities.

The portable model, looking like some kind of fake arm to wear, was supposed to fix that problem by making fresh Snag Balls where they were needed. So far Wes was in charge of keeping it safe before some new tech and machine guy could come and replicate it.

Like he would let _that_ happen.

Wes made sure that the Snag Machine – the portable, more efficient model – was safely in the leg-compartment of the sidecar. Castor and Pollux could sit on the seats, and the machine could stay there, out of sight.

Maybe he'd take it to the ocean and drop it in a deep part of the vast water while on his way out of this region. It was a bit of revenge on his part, to make sure that Snagem not only lost its best Snagger, but also all of its machines.

Perhaps that would teach them a lesson.

Probably not. Snagem's grunts had some of the thickest heads he'd ever seen.

Castor and Pollux were secure in the sidecar. Pollux gave him a wide-fanged grin, and Castor thrashed his pronged tail against the back of the seat excitedly.

"Let's blow this joint," he said to them, and started up the engine.

They were flying through the hot desert air when the explosion rocked the canyon behind them. Wes imagined that he could hear Gonzap howling insults and threats after him, and smirked because freedom, in the form of hot wind running fiercely through his hair and across his face, felt pretty great.

By the time the New Year of 2000 – the new millennium – had started a few hours later, Wes and his Pokémon were celebrating their newfound independence quietly at Outskirt Stand.


	3. Hesitation

Story: **_The First Young Blood – Wes_**

Summary: His story is not well-known, but he was the first hero – the one who started the chain of events that would allow the others to rise like they did. Wes, Rui, and how they saved the desert region of Orre from greedy shadows the first time. [Pokémon Colosseum]

Characters: Wes, Rui, Castor (Espeon), Pollux (Umbreon), Pokémon Colosseum Characters.

Uploaded: 2017-03-16

* * *

Part Two – Hesitation

"The only reason to delay at this point was because the immediate prospect was so deeply uninviting."  
J. K. Rowling

* * *

 _Date: 1999 AJ or A.S. 100, December 30th_

 _Location: Phenac City, Orre_

In all the books discussing Orre, the region had been described as having a 'dry, mostly desert-like environment'. The few pictures from photographers that had been permitted inside the closed-off nation, as well as paintings and tales from past ages supported this description.

Her mum, of course, had some other stories to tell, having actually lived in those lands.

"That was the case for most of it, in Southeast Orre," Chiara had told Rui, agreeing to the books and their dry words. "But there was also a beautiful place, in Northwest Orre, called Agate Village, and I think it was far prettier than Cherrygrove."

Rui assumed that her mum meant the lower class part of Cherrygrove, specifically the cheap apartments they lived in when she said that, and not the beautiful parks, or the suburban and urban areas where the trees the city was known and named for would bloom spectacularly with light pink petals in the spring. It was a sight that drew tourists into the city in those times like honey drew in Bug-types, and was considered one of Johto's Seven Great Sceneries.

Northwest and Southeast Orre. It sounded so equal when said like that, but in reality, Southeast Orre had been richer, stronger and larger than its more impoverished brother region, even when under a totalitarian regime. There was but a sliver of land that the Northwest had controlled, most of it the mountainous parts of the land. While they hadn't been deserts, the steep, jagged mountains offered a terrain just as rugged and unfriendly as hot sandy deserts.

The deserts of the Southeast made up for their uninhabitable state by having lots of natural resources, enough to keep them afloat. The fairy tales of one thousand and one nights in the desert kingdom originated from Orre, and it was said that the treasures spoken of in the tales – the abundance of gold and jewels, the magical artifacts that could be both a curse and a blessing – weren't all that exaggerated as bedtime stories tended to be.

In contrast, Northwest Orre didn't have much to offer in trade in comparison to their sibling. All they had more of than the Southeast was trees – and lumber of more superior quality could be obtained by any nation from friendlier, more powerful and therefore advantageous regions such as Sinnoh or Johto. Their lack of power and value meant that Northwest Orre lacked allies. It was a small, poor nation, constantly fearing attack from its unpredictable, closed-off sibling to the south.

When her mum and her grandparents escaped Southwest Orre by crossing the border into Northwest Orre, years before Rui was born, they found themselves refuge in Agate Village. There, Rui's grandparents had decided to stay in Northwest Orre, and settle down in the village instead of fleeing Orre entirely.

"They were old," her mum had answered when Rui asked why the family had split. "Tired. Too old and tired to settle into another country. And even if it was dangerous, they didn't want to leave Orre."

But Rui's mother had decided to leave Orre altogether, and came to Johto, one of the more welcoming regions to refugees. Chiara didn't marry, but became pregnant with Rui a few years after settling in Cherrygrove. To support them both, she worked as a waitress at two local diners and at the Cherrygrove University. To help out and not be a deadweight, Rui begged for a part-time job at the community library when she turned fifteen, and tried to be mature for her hardworking mom's sake. She never whined about not having a dad or other things kids her age had, or talked about what she could See after realizing it wasn't the norm for other people.

In the late days when her mum, after an exhausting, busy shift at the diner, came home and collapsed into the worn sofa, Rui wondered if she regretted leaving her parents and Agate Village of lush forests, strong mountains and clear rivers. If Chiara regretted keeping Rui.

She never mustered up the courage to ask or look closely enough at her mum's heart to See for sure, not even during the war when it looked like Orre was up against the world. Trainers were tense, fearing that they – and their Pokémon – would be drafted into the battle. Rui and her mum weren't treated with outright hostility for their Orrean background, but there was definitely an undercurrent of not-very-warm emotions from those who knew about it. Kanto had gone to war, and Johto, being Johto, really had one choice – join them as an ally.

Even if Rui had been born in Johto, and her mum had fled the country as a refugee, that didn't matter. War meant loss, and loss meant grief. No one thought properly when grieving loss. Rui tried to be understanding and considerate because she could See it in them, the fear, the pain, the confusion, the sadness.

She didn't get a Pokémon, or go on a journey. She paid attention to everything she could, so no one could accuse her of being callous and uncaring about Johto. She cheered when the young dragon-trainer Lance became the youngest to ever become a region's Champion, at the age of seventeen – just a little older than her at the time, and yet already hailed as a hero and prodigy, the new face of Johto. She mourned with everyone else when former Champion Tamara Pierce was killed in action. She prayed for the souls in Sinnoh with everyone else, sending her sympathies to the nation up north when their internal politics clashed and led to a tragedy, ending the lives of their Champion and Elite Four.

Even when she heard the curses directed towards Orre, calling them sand worms and violent warmongers, Rui kept her head down and went on quietly with her life, wishing for a peaceful outcome and an end to all the chaos to come soon.

And it did. The war ended soon after that, when the Kurtz Family – the ones that had been ruling Southwest Orre like kings since Orre split into two – was assassinated by a Special Forces Team from Sevii. With the center of the government gone, it began to collapse upon itself from both external and internal conflict.

The Resistance in Orre, taking advantage of the power vacuum, quickly took charge and called for an armistice, and agreed to a peace treaty to end the war. Orre was going to become one again, after generations of separation. People like her mum, who had fled, were excited about going back and searching for family and friends in what they hoped would be a bettered version of the homeland they had escaped from.

"I'm just really happy," Chiara had said, smiling through her tears. She looked so young and alive in a way she never had that made Rui stare, filling with guilt and happiness all at the same time.

That had been over a year ago. Rui – now eighteen, newly a legal adult and unsure of the future – was in the sort-of settled, newly united Orre, searching for her grandparents. Her mum had written to them over the years, telling them about her life in Johto and about Rui, but it would be the first time meeting them in person for Rui. She only had a few small pictures, letters, and a harassed and slightly paranoid government official constantly warning them to not get into political debates that was supposed to help nineteen other people track down their relatives to lead her to the right direction. It was supposed to be a big event, a making of a documentary on families reuniting for the first time in years, or even decades, or in the case of Rui – whose story was tearjerking enough for the station to pick her for the making and fund her coming here – for the first time in her life. There were twenty of them, all theatres of the human drama, each of them with a story that sounded almost surreal and made one realize that fiction sometimes paled to the fantastic realm of reality. And to make it even more realistic, many of these people would meet their families on the first day of the new year - of the new century, or millennium if one went by the After Jirachi year-numbering system instead of the After Silph.

That was all she had. And, her mum's favourite necklace, now around her neck, that would hopefully help bolstering her claims as her daughter to the grandparents she had never met before.

What she wanted most – but didn't have – was her mum, because acute liver failure had taken Chiara from this world, three months ago. It had been so sudden and unexpected that Rui hadn't fully realized the implications – that she was alone and on her own now – until her funeral was finished and there was a small, newly filled urn with her mom's ashes in it sitting in a now-occupied shelf space at the Cherrygrove Columbarium.

Rui breathed out, and saw her breath mist like faint white clouds in the early dawn's cold air. The sun would rise soon, and she would once again find everything extremely hot and dry, but in the desert the nights were mercilessly cold.

Still, even for a desert, she hadn't expected for such a pretty city to be in the middle of it. Phenac wasn't the Agate Village her mom described in stories Rui used to beg out of her, but it was aesthetically pleasing for sure. A bit wasteful to have water fountains in the desert, she thought personally, but nonetheless beautiful.

She scuffed the toes of her shoe against the hard, yellow stone blocks of the ground. The desert was blazing hot and dry as a bone in the sunny days, but cold in the nights. The radical shifts in temperature was unfamiliar to Rui, so used to seeing the gradual, mild shifts of Johto.

'Small steps, Rui,' her mum used to say. 'A little at a time. Slowly.'

And though she was in a land that seemed to specialize in great bounds and leaps, Chiara's words were her current map and compass to go by in life. So far her 'little' goal was to find her grandparents. Then . . . .

Then what? Did she stay in Orre with them for the rest of her life? That was a terrifying thought. But did she return to Johto, where she really had no one? That was also something that struck fear in her heart.

"I don't know where my life is going," Rui confessed to the dry desert air.

The desert, predictably enough, didn't answer back.

* * *

 _Date: 2000 AJ or A.S. 101, January 1st_

 _Location: Outskirt Stand, East of Phenac City, Orre_

Wes got only four hours of sleep in a small, cramped room with faded walls and creaking, sandy floors before he was back up, ready to get going. It hadn't been a comfortable night of sleep – the cot was old and had a dirty, musty smell – but it had been the first night of sleep he'd had out of Snagem, the first night of sleep as a free man, so it was good in that sense.

He wiped his face, and cracked his neck and joints to chase away the last dredges of sleep. Once he was fairly certain he could be seen in public without sticking out too much, and his belongings were secure, he left the room.

Wes would have preferred it if Castor and Pollux were out and by his side, but having rare Pokémon out walking with him was like asking for attention from greedy sleazebags. If needed, Wes could have the twins out in a flash, which was the next best thing, and if he couldn't handle himself, then he didn't deserve to be walking around in Orre.

He headed to the train compartment of the Outskirt Stand where the supplies were kept and sold along with meals to travellers. The hot smell of heated grease wafting from the area wasn't half bad, and hungry as he was Wes wasn't going to be picky about what was served as long as it was edible.

Outskirt Stand was made out of some old train compartments connected together, no longer usable for their original purpose. Small sections were quartered off and served as rooms for paying customers, but the owner of the stand made most of his income selling supplies to travellers.

The man also had contacts that could get him some of the rarer goods, presumably smuggled into Orre from the other regions. While he sold a variety of knickknacks and supplies, he was most famous underground for being a consistent supplier of Poké Balls.

Poké Balls weren't easy to get in Orre, but it was possible – and cheaper – to get them here than anywhere else. He himself had never been to this stand, but he'd overheard some Snagem grunts talk about how this was one of the few places that could be depended on to get Poké Balls from. The balls brought back were dusty and faded in colour, but functional.

"How long does it take for you to take a shit, man?! The boss is gonna spaz at us for showing up late again."

"Aw, he'll understand."

Wes sidestepped the two men loudly talking to each other on their way out of Outskirt Stand, and walked up to the owner, a burly man with his head of red hair wrapped under a bandana.

"Picking up supplies?" the owner guessed, frying some slices of meat. "Haven't seen your face around these parts. A traveller?"

He shrugged, not really answering the question. It wasn't like the man had really wanted to know, anyways, and Wes had never been one for small talk.

"Picking up supplies." The less said about him, the better.

A young woman that could have been his daughter took over control of the frying meat, and the owner turned to him as he wiped his hands on his stained apron. "Whaddaya need, traveller?"

Food. Medicine – both for him and his Pokémon. Water. The stand's owner didn't even bat an eye when Wes asked for something he could cover his facial tattoo with. Tattoos on one's face wasn't uncommon – one in five people had some sort of ink marking on their face in Orre – but their recognisability sometimes made it harder to be discreet, even if the tattoo was something as plain as a single white streak across the face like the one Wes had. Hiding tattoos to hide one's identity wasn't uncommon either, and the owner was too good of a merchant to drive away a customer with nosy questions.

"Dad, no," the daughter interrupted, after taking a glance at the face paint her father had picked out. Wes subtly avoided making eye contact with her by pretending to take interest in the products that would hide the mark on his face. "Not with his skin colour. You need something darker, or it's going to look awkward."

"How 'bout some Poké Balls?" the owner suggested after switching the shade, trying to sell as much as he could to Wes. "Got the regular kind, and the better kind – Great Balls, work far better than the average ones, and look much cooler too."

Wes doubted that he was going to be running into any wild Pokémon – the ones worth catching that weren't better classified as pests like Rattata were rarer than gold in Orre – but he hesitated.

The stand owner saw, and seized upon his indecision. "Buy six, and I'll throw in one for free."

It was better to be prepared, and he was planning on leaving Orre, anyways. "Alright."

While the man packed up his supplies into a twine-wrapped package for him to take, Wes paid more attention to the television, where on a news flash an attractive news reporter spoke about how an investigation into a sudden explosion at Eclo Canyon had revealed a hideout formerly belonging to Team Snagem.

Wes grinned.


End file.
